Pages

Friday, June 14, 2013

Post op surgery post

I started writing this post from the Royal Children's Hospital in Brisbane. The last time I was in a hospital was while Ellie was having light therapy for jaundice. This time I'm in hospital again for an equally lousy occasion.

I'm sitting in the parents room with Mr Fork as we attempt to distract ourselves while our 8.5 month old is having hernia surgery. If you exclude the puppies, who are technically now 'it's', Ellie is the first in our little family unit to have surgery, which is a sobering thought for any parent to have.

About 30 minutes ago we passed our little girl over to a nurse to be anaesthetised, and then cut open. They asked did I want to be with her while she went under but I'm not strong enough to watch that.

I know that in the whole scheme of things, a hernia operation is relatively straight forward and routine. I know that in an hour or so she'll be coming back up to the ward and I can hold her again. This little girl that I grew inside of me for 9 months, and who barely left my side for 6 months after that. Who lights up when she sees my face when I come home from work.

I know I posted last week about how miserable a sick, wailing baby at a funeral was. Let me tell you, even sadder is having to have your baby fast before surgery. Needing to wake her at 0130 for milk because it was the last thing she'd drink for many hours. Sitting in the waiting room watching her desperately suck her thumb seven hours later because she was hungry and mummy couldn't make her understand that she wasn't allowed to feed her. My heart broke a little then.

However, the operation was a success. My little girl came up from surgery with the nurses part way in love with her, all snuggled up in their arms and looking so small and fragile. She slept a lot, drank some milk, ate a little pear puree and was charmed by the wandering clowns and the teddy bear she was given in the recovery ward. I held her in my arms and soothed both of us while I rocked in the bedside chair and cried on the inside at the sight of her incisions and the cannula in her tiny hand.

For the next few days as Ellie recovers from her operation at home, Mr Fork and I will tend her and be grateful that we live in a place where health care is accessible and doctors are skilled enough to fix our little girl for something so 'minor'. And perhaps, mummy will steal a few extra kisses to help soothe the inside wounds that happen when our little ones are sick and we need to stay strong on the outside for their sake.

As for Ellie? As usual, she doesn't know she's sick and should be resting. I know she's in pain but when the panadol kicks in, I've got no hope of stopping her zooming around the house and playing madly with her favourite toys. Children are so resilient.

Thanks lovely. I keep meaning to send you a "get through exams" care package but I continually get thwarted. And now it's so close to when you're here that you will just have to wait until I can shower you with care and attention in person! xo